Attack of the Plot Bunnies
by rabidsamfan
Summary: Ficlets, and drabbles; funny and serious. Many focusing on Samwise, but not all. 1-30 in chronological order, 31. Departure, 32. Feasting at Rivendell, 33. Counsellor of Elrond, 34. Bottom of the Bin, 35.Mending, 36. Gift
1. The Decree

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter One

Author note: as of 22 May 2004 I have rearranged and added to this compilation of stories, drabbles, and ficlets. They are now in chronological order (well mostly). Sorry if it's confusing, but it helps me.

Timeline: A Stoor village, circa 2463 Chapter: Prologue mostly

Credit where Credit is due: previousl appeared on my LJ and as AotPB chapter 4 on ff.n

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **The Decree**

"No more birthday presents?" Henniden whispered in sheer disbelief, as the Grandmother read out her decision. "Not ever?"

"Shh," Reggar hushed him hastily. "She's still talking."

"But it's my birthday next week!" Henniden felt tears starting up. He'd been waiting and waiting and _waiting_. Almost twelve months. And now there wouldn't be any presents. It was all Smeagol's fault. He'd always been greedy and spoiled and now he'd spoiled things for everyone in the village. Especially poor Deagol. He sniffled, reminded of that sharper grief, and Reggar put a brotherly elbow into his ribs.

"Ooof!"

"Listen!"

"…the greed in our hearts. Therefore from hence our special days will be the days in which we show our generosity to others, instead of expecting or requiring it from them. Celebrate your natal days by giving; not asking, nor getting. Celebrate the friends and family members who best show their hearts by what they give, and teach your children to do the same. And thus we shall never see a tragedy like this again in our lives, or our children's lives, or our children's children's…"

"Worse and worse," Henniden moaned. "I'm not going to get presents and now I've got to _give_ presents." There were twenty people invited to his party, young and old, and somehow he didn't think that they would be best pleased by a redistribution of his collection of fishhooks. "All that waiting for _nothing._"

Mistress Addercop pinched his elbow. "Greedy brat. We'll be exiling you next!"

Reggar was glaring too, so Henniden kept his head down, wishing that he weren't the only one in the village who looked unhappy. When the Grandmother finally stopped talking, he mooched down to the riverbank.

"Hey, Henny," cried Millgrom, pausing on his way by to gloat. "What are you going to give me on your birthday?"

Henniden scowled. "It'll be a fishhook or nothing," he muttered. "Just because your birthday was _last_ month." Half a dozen of their friends jostled by, gathering Millgrom up and yattering about going off to look for duck eggs, but Henniden shrugged off their invitations. He crouched near the claypit, squelching mud between his toes and trying to keep the tears from coming. "Darn that Smeagol anyway."

Much to his surprise, Reggar sat down beside him and put an arm over his shoulders. "Making marbles to give away for your birthday? Want some help?"

Henniden shrugged and stuck out his lower lip. He didn't want to talk about it. But Reggar didn't go away. "It's not so bad," he said, in the tone of voice that meant "I'm five years older than you and I know everything."

"It's awful," Henniden said. He sighed. The Grandmother was right about hearts being greedy, but it _was_ only once a year.

"No, really. Think about it," Reggar insisted. "What's the worst part about birthdays?"

Henniden looked at him disbelievingly. "There isn't any worst part."

"Of course there is, you've been moaning about it for weeks!" He laughed and tweaked Henniden's nose gently. "The waiting, silly!"

"So?" Henniden couldn't argue. Waiting _was_ awful. But he didn't see how waiting and then having to give people things was better.

"So," said Reggar, "You're going to be at Rubilor's birthday party the day after tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And she's going to have to give you a present now, right?"

Henniden squinched his face up thoughtfully. "Yes," he said slowly.

"So, which is better? Twenty presents once a year and wait twelve months for another one, or one present twenty times a year and not waiting so long?"

----


	2. The Gaffer

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Two

Timeline: September 1401/3001; Chapter: i.I

Credit where Credit is due: Sent to lj April 2, 2004 – ff.n AotPB chapter 7

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **The Gaffer**

It's not the reading, mind, that worries me. All my children can read, and did their time at Gammer Brockhouse's the same as yours, but Samwise, he went along to school already a-knowing enough to read a bit, and that was Mr. Bilbo's doing. And it's not the stories, except that bless the boy he'll listen to them all day long whether he's heard 'em before or no. All youngsters listen to stories. But Samwise, he listens harder. It's time he set Elves and Dragons aside. And how's he to do that when he's up at Bag End a-meeting Dwarves?

----


	3. Farewell

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Three

Timeline: 22 September 1401/3001; Chapter: 1.I

Credit where Credit is Due: previously posted on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Farewell**

Bilbo was beginning to get the rhythm of walking again, as he and the dwarves who had come to escort him to the Lonely Mountain passed out of Hobbiton and into Bywater. It was a lovely warm night, and he was just beginning to think that everything had gone splendidly when Bifur touched his elbow. "We're being followed," he said quietly.

Bilbo stopped to listen. "I don't hear anyone," he said.

"Nor did I, but I saw a shadow against the stars as we came down the hill." Bifur loosened the axe in his belt. "A hobbit, I would think, but from the shape of it, I cannot be sure."

"Well I can," Bilbo said, frowning. He turned and looked into the shadows. "Come on out! Come out, I say! Bifur, put that thing away. We're not a league from Hobbiton, yet." He saw someone move by the line of hedge and squinted. "Frodo, is that you?"

"It's me, Mr. Bilbo," came the soft reply. "Sam Gamgee."

"Sam!" Bilbo beckoned the lad into the dim starlight. "Come here, lad! What are you doing so far from home?"

"I thought I'd come along with you, and have some adventures," Sam answered, trotting forward. He stopped when he reached Bilbo, looking up uncertainly as he tried to discern the older hobbit's expression. A lopsided bag was tied to his shoulders with a twist of rope, and his father's winter hat was pulled down over his ears, as if he were doing his best to look like one of the dwarves. Starlight glittered on the tears that hung precariously in the corners of his eyes. "I can come, can't I?" he asked, and his voice cracked on the words.

"Oh, my Samwise," Bilbo gathered the tweenager into his arms and gave him a hug, glad of a sudden for the chance to make one proper farewell. "Samwise, Samwise, don't you know that you'd break the Gaffer's heart if you went off with me?"

"I don't think his heart can break no more," Sam said into Bilbo's shoulder. "Not since Mam died. Besides, I'm just a ninnyhammer, good for nowt sensible."

Bilbo held the tween at arm's length for a moment, "Did he say that?"

Sam hung his head and sniffled. "The ice ran out, and I forgot to close the icehouse door when I went to fetch some more," he admitted, twisting his toes in the grass. "But I didn't mean no harm!"

"Of course you didn't," Bilbo said. "You've the best heart in Hobbiton, my lad. Haven't I always said so?"

"Then I can come?" Sam asked again, his young face earnest and anxious. Bilbo wished he could say yes. Sam had been his favorite of the Hill's motley assortment of urchins ever since the day he had heard the lad's lisping baby voice happily misquoting one of his very own poems over a bowl of porridge while Bell cooked luncheon in the kitchen of Bag End. He'd seen Sam grow from baby roundness to dancing childhood and on to the elbows and knees and feet of clumsy adolescence. It would be so nice to see Sam grow into himself as Frodo had and become a fine young hobbit.

But it would be desperately unfair to Hamfast.

"No, Sam, I'm sorry."

Sam's shoulder's slumped, and the tears began to flow. "But I'll be good!" he promised.

"And so must I be," Bilbo told him, hugging him again and rubbing the short hairs at the back of his neck with one hand. "You have to stay a little longer, Sam, until you've grown, before you go off to fight your dragons. Even if you don't think the Gaffer needs you, I know that he does – and so does Marigold. And besides," he added, inspired. "I'm depending on you to take care of Frodo."

"You are?" Sam said, wiping at his tears with his hand.

"Of course I am. Who'll see that he doesn't spend all his time reading if you're not there? He'll forget half his meals for the sake of having his nose in a book if he's left to himself, you know that!" Bilbo made himself smile. "I asked Gandalf to keep an eye on him, but Gandalf's not always around, you know. Now. Can I trust you?"

Sam straightened, facing Bilbo with his head held high. "You know you can, Mr. Bilbo."

"Then I'll let you in on a secret," Bilbo said. "I haven't got much time left to me, so I must go now to see the mountains again while I still can, but Frodo and you have many years ahead. There'll come a time when he's ready for an adventure, and if I know Bagginses, he'll need someone along to see that he doesn't forget things – like pocket handkerchiefs." Sam giggled a little, recognizing one of his favorite parts of Bilbo's adventures. "So, if you practice hard at seeing what he needs, and making sure he has it, then when the time comes, I don't see how he'll be able to leave you behind. I've got the dwarves to take care of me," he said, nodding to his waiting companions. "But Frodo's going to need you."

"Do you really think so?" Sam asked, starting to use his coatsleeve to wipe his nose, and then producing a grubby wad of handkerchief from his pocket and displaying it shyly.

"I do. Now, head on home as fast as you can. You're expected to help put away the party things in the morning, I know. And the next day you can begin your new job. All right?"

"All right," Sam said, with an abrupt nod. Then he hugged Bilbo as hard as he could before turning to go. He'd gone a few steps before he stopped again, a curious silhouette in the night. "I won't never see you again, will I Mr. Bilbo?" he said wistfully.

"Yet you may, Samwise Gamgee," Bilbo said, waving farewell, and hitching his pack higher on his shoulders as he watched the boy turn and start back for home. "You may."

----


	4. Orphans

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Four

Timeline: late 3002/1402 Chapter: Appendices

Credit where Credit is due: This drabble owes thanks to periantari for nudging me to write it with her own drabbles and Marigold for handing me a challenge starter that I had more than one idea for.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: ** Orphans**

Eomer sat up abruptly. Beside him Eowyn stirred, but didn't waken. Everyone else in the long hall was sleeping too. The only movement was the slow pacing of the king's guard. He lay down again and tucked the blanket higher over himself and his little sister, trying not to think about the smell of the loft where they'd slept until now. He was surprised that Eowyn could sleep so easily here. Except that it had been a long ride, and she was only seven. He tucked her hair back. "It's all right, sister," he promised. "I'll take care of you."---- 


	5. Pipeweed

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Five

Timeline: Circa 1403/3003; between Chapter 1.I and 1.II

Credit where Credit is due: Previously posted to shirebound's livejournal and as AotPB chapter 1 at ff.n The plotbunny came from Shirebound's Livejournal.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Pipeweed**

Elrond Half-Elven, Master of Rivendell, didn't have any warning. He sneezed. Loudly.

"Are you all right, Master Elrond?" A small hand patted his knee worriedly, and Elrond made himself smile reassuringly at the elderly hobbit who had appeared in the corridor in answer to the explosion. It was too late to rescind the offer of permanent hospitality. Gandalf would blame him forever if something happened to Bilbo now. Of course, Gandalf never stayed for long, and always took his obnoxious habit out onto the porches.

"I'm fine," he lied, fumbling out a handkerchief. Rivendell had rooms aplenty. Rooms for dancing, rooms for singing and playing, rooms for food, and rooms for friendly company. Surely there was room for one small hobbit! Even one that insisted on igniting himself on a nightly basis. "I came to see if you were comfortable." _And not burning the place down_.

"Oh, well enough," Bilbo replied, fidgeting with his pipe. "It was kind of you to put me so close to your rooms."

Something in the way he said it rang a slow bell in Elrond's head and he peered over the linen with streaming eyes. Bilbo was definitely working his way up to saying something. "You are our guest," he said, hoping to invite further confidences.

Bilbo flushed, and fidgeted some more, and bowed. "I wouldn't put you to any trouble," he said carefully. "But…"

"But the room does not suit you," Elrond finished for him, going on into it and through onto the porch, where the night breeze brought him some relief. When Bilbo joined him he carefully maneuvered so as to be upwind. "I am sorry."

"It's a grand room," Bilbo said, avoiding the edge of the porch and the magnificent view. "But it is… upstairs."

"Upstairs?" Elrond echoed.

"Well, and the ceilings are very high," Bilbo added, very uncomfortable now. "And the bed is…"

"Too large," Elrond guessed with a laugh. "A new bed, more to your size is already being made," he told Bilbo. "That much at least I have already done. But you would like a room which has a lower ceiling, and not on the upper levels, would you not?" _One lined with brick, and with a good chimney. And so both our desires can be granted._ "I think I know the very room. Give us a day or two to make the arrangements."

"Wonderful!" Bilbo perked up immediately. "Care to join me for a pipe, Lord Elrond?"

"No thank you," Elrond said gravely. "I have never acquired the taste. And I have things to do. If you'll excuse me?" He bowed and left, making plans. A window, a door. And a good cleaning, too, before Bilbo moved in. It could all be arranged. And he'd be conveniently close to the kitchens as well.

Now all he had to think about was where to put the new oven.

----


	6. Packing for Crickhollow

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Six

Timeline: Summer, 1418/3018 Chapter: 1.III

Credit where Credit is due: previously appeared on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Packing for Crickhollow**

The worst part was the books. Never had a book come into Bag End without finding a permanent home. Frodo was torn between leaving them for the Sackville-Bagginses to ignore or sending them to Buckland where they'd gather dust until such time as his disappearance became his assumed death and they'd be dragged back to Bag End or sold at auction.

In the end he packed them, because no one would believe he would leave them behind, but on each flyleaf he wrote the name of the person who would love that book best, with "gift of Frodo Baggins" underneath.

----


	7. In Bree

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Seven

Timeline: 29 September 1418/3018 Chapter: 1.XI

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted to my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **In Bree**

Not one night has passed since I saw them lying in the barrow, their faces pale and still and the blade bright across their necks. They sleep better in this warm firelight. Sam snores, and Pippin winds the blanket round him as he turns. But Merry shivers -- even in sleep I see fear on his face. Does he dream of the wight, or of Black Riders? I rescue the blanket and cover him again. He tucks against me, the way he did when he was small. Heed no nightly noises, I whisper. The horns do not cry for you.

----


	8. Reunion

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Eight

Timeline: 20 October 1418; Chapter: 2.I

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted on ff.n as AotPB chapter 12 and in my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Reunion**

He slid to the ground as soon as the horse stopped, but his feet stung when they hit the ground and his knees gave way. He could only watch as the Elves carried Frodo inside.

And then someone was tugging him upright and he turned to face an elderly hobbit, who tsked brusquely as he brushed away the caked mud on his face and then stopped, peering with growing recognition at his face. "Samwise, I thought it was you!" he said, and his voice was achingly familiar.

_Bilbo?_

"You've grown," said Bilbo, just as Sam's tired head said, "You've shrunk."

----


	9. In Rivendell

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Nine

Timeline: early November 3018/1418; Chapter: 2.III

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: ** In Rivendell**

**  
**He'd love this place, my brother. I can almost see him standing beside the waterfalls with his face turned up to the caress of the mist. He would not linger for long -- not once he heard the singing coming from the Hall of Fire. But his Elvish is better than mine; he would not be so shy of asking when he heard a strange word. By now he'd be trading poems with the old hobbit, and asking Lord Elrond for the use of the library.   
  
Perhaps if he were with me, I would not be so ready to go home.

----


	10. Temptation

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Ten

Timeline: 17/18 January 3019/1419; Chapter: 2.VII

Credit where Credit is due: previously appeared in my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Temptation**  
  
A nice little hole with a bit of garden of my own, was all I told Merry she'd offered me, and didn't mention it was Bag End's garden I saw my feet standing in – I planted those lilacs myself, and I know their smell.   
  
I wonder if she offered him the same thing. He's loved that hole as much as Frodo ever has. I saw how he walked each room after the last party. If he hadn't decided to come along with us I expect he might have bought it himself.  
  
But it wouldn't be home nohow. Not without Frodo.

----


	11. Bob and Bill

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Eleven

Timeline: February 1419 Chapter:

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted as AotPB chapter 8 at ff.n and on my LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Bob and Bill**

Whose little pony are you, to be wandering into my stable like you've been here betimes? Old Barliman he's got ponies a-plenty, and oats are dear, what with all the troubles. But I don't suppose as he'll mind if I feed you once, and get these burrs from your hide.

Hold still, lad. How can you be so sure I've sugar in my pocket? Just a bit more brushing, now. You're the image of a pony I once knew. Bless me if you're not the very one. Why did they send you home?

Why haven't they come back with you?

----


	12. Elfhelm

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twelve

Timeline: 10 March 3019 Chapter: 5.III

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted in my lj and as chapter 2 of AotPB on ff.n

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Elfhelm**  
  
How could he say her no?  
  
How could he deny her, she whom he had loved since first she smiled at him, her small wet fingers clinging triumphantly at his knees? Bold already, and strong, her small teeth bright as snow on autumn leaves.   
  
How could he refuse, when he had seen her eyes shining in the firelight, her back straight and proud even when the songs went on into the night? Her dreams had kept her awake and listening, a small figure still on watch for glory while the other children slumped into tangled piles and slept among the rushes.  
  
How could he tell her she could not, after he had guided her first steps in the sword dance, and called the cadence as she patiently attacked the practice-worn pells? For the first month alone, the boys had outpaced her, until her small arms hardened and her shoulders broadened under the weight of mail.   
  
How could he order her back, after he had watched her stand aside for love's sake and then wither from the lack of light? Her golden hair had dimmed in the shadows, her face had grown cold and still despite the fire piled high for an invalid King, but she had stayed, wasting her strength in battle against a foe she had not been taught to fight.  
  
How could he claim she was unneeded, when every spear might mean the difference between dawn and endless darkness? There were others, women and old men, who could order a siege, and lead the straggling survivors into the dark of mountains and forests in hopes of a few years of maimed life, but few who had survived the battle at Helm's Deep with the strength to ride anew.  
  
How could he reject her sacrifice, and yet ask it of others -- third and fourth sons made heirs of their family's honor in a single night -- striplings whose voices cracked as they gave their oaths to follow their King to the end of despair? It was impossible. No matter what greater lords than he had said, or thought, or done. They did not love her as he did.  
  
The breath of the mountain was cold. She waited for his answer, still as the pukelman that shadowed her, and it was he who shivered for the sake of her despair. She was so young! But the frost was on her now, and to warm her was to make her shatter, like a cold pot set too near the hearth in winter. She was waiting.  
  
He could not say her no.  
  
"Yes," he said, and took her hand and kissed it, for he would never have the chance again. "Yes, Eowyn. You may ride with us."

----


	13. Faramir and Pippin

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Thirteen

Timeline: 10 March 3019/1419 ; 5.IV

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted as AotPB chapter 6 on ff.n, and on my lj

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Faramir and Pippin**

Is this what halflings are meant to look like, so rosy cheeked and bright eyed? Do they scamper soft-footed like him in their faraway land? The other two moved carefully, like old men after a cold night. It was only the wine that lent color to their faces.

He stands by father's chair and listens to my tale, tipping up on his toes to listen all the harder when I speak of his kinfolk. His curls tumble over his forehead, and I remember Sam's lank hair, and Frodo's brittle locks against his pillow.

I should have given them more food.

----


	14. Flowers of Ithilien

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Fourteen

Timeline: 12 March 1419/3019 Chapter: Movie based, RotK as Faramir and his men ride out to retake Osgiliath

Credit where Credit is due: Written in response to a challenge on Marycrackmonkey's LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Flowers of Ithilien**

I remember the flowers of Ithilien, the sweet heavy scent in the springtime and the careless abundance of blossoms scattered in summer grass. We brought them with us when we came to Minas Tirith, but wildflowers do not smell the same in ordered gardens.

I'll remember the sons of Ithilien, for what little time I've left to live, riding behind the ranks of armored guards, with their green cloaks brushed and their faces proud as daisies before the hay is mown. Younger sons and widowers he chose, but the rest follow for the sake of loves still living.

We'll remember.

----


	15. Riding

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Fifteen

Timeline: 12 March 1419/3019Chapter: Movie based, RotK as Faramir and his men ride out to retake Osgiliath

Credit where Credit is due: written for a challenge on redpanda's LJ. Both of these challenges were in early April and garnered some absolutely beautiful responses.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Riding**

I'm already dead.

I know grandmother can see it, but mother doesn't want to. She is inside, weeping.

But grandmother is here, and nods to me, scattering sweet campion in the street. It's crushed under the horses hooves, and the perfume comes to me and almost drives away the smell of Osgiliath overrun and my father's entrails spilled hot and foul against my legs.

Almost.

But I ride with my friends, who fled with me, and hoped for safety where none could be. I have felt the shadow cold and coming.

It does not matter if I stay or go.

----


	16. Ashes

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Sixteen

Timeline: **25 March 1419** Chapter: Movie fic, based on the moment when Sam and Frodo have finally escaped the Sammath Naur, and the expression on Sam's face.

Credit where Credit is due: previously appeared in my LJ – and much improved thanks to the comments there!

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Ashes**

_I had to save you._  
  
I hear your voice, and you are glad that the task is done, but I cannot rejoice. I've nothing left inside.  
  
_I didn't let you fall. _  
  
But there's nowhere left to go, except a few more feet up this bit of rock. That won't be enough. The mountain is destroying itself, same as it destroyed the Ring.   
  
_I couldn't let you fall._  
  
I called to you. You reached for me. I had to pull you up. And still we are dying, and my head aches and my heart is numb.  
  
_Why can't I save you?_

----


	17. Soldier of Gondor

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Seventeen

Timeline: 8 April 1419/3019; Chapter: 6.IV

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted to my LJ and as AotPB chapter 5 at ffn.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Soldier of Gondor**

I shouted as I'd been taught, but when the Ringbearers came before us the words caught in my throat. We'd thought to see two more like the Squire of Rohan, small folk, but proud -- not wide-eyed starvelings clasping hands for comfort as they walked.

One was clad in leather – orc gear, scavenged in great need. The other wore the tattered remains of a much-mended suit. Through gapes in their clothes I could see the red lines of scars new-healed.

So small they were, to brave the shadow. My heart overflowed with pity and joy. "Praise them with great praise!"

----


	18. Sleeping

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Eighteen

Timeline: May 1, 1419/3019; Chapter 6.V

Credit where Credit is due: Written for Marigold's challenge #4 and previously posted to the LJ called "talechallenge04"

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Sleeping**

Frodo sat up abruptly. Next to him the other three hobbits shifted uneasily but did not wake. He counted them, reaching out to touch each curly head, before he snuggled down again beside Sam on the soft grass. His breathing deepened, but his eyes stayed open, seeking out the tall figure on watch by the terrace rail before they closed and he sighed into sleep once more.

Gandalf watched, sending a comforting wisp of pipeweed smoke to mingle with the scent of the flowers in the garden. Memories came to him of hours spent in just such a fashion, a vigil and a tangle of sleeping hobbits nearby. He hadn't had time or inclination before this to sift through those memories, so close were they to the battle in Moria. But now he remembered: the long walking, and the chatter of youngsters, the bareness of Hollin and the snows of Caradhras. It was like a dream.

Sam had given up first. The beds in the house that Faramir had prepared for the Fellowship were too soft and too high, and it hadn't been dusk yet when he'd wandered out into the garden with his blanket, to stretch out with the smell of good earth in his nose and the clear sky of stars overhead. Pippin had followed him a little later, bringing a pillow, and they had murmured sleepily about the wheeling constellations until Frodo had joined them, settling unabashedly in the middle. "For warmth," he laughed, "and to keep Pippin from talking your ear off, Sam."

Merry stood wistfully by, keeping watch as he had in Ithilien. Those memories were closer, but Gandalf had not needed them to know that Merry would fret himself ill if he were left to guard his sleeping friends through the night. He hadn't been sure if Merry would accept his offer to watch instead, but the day had been long, with many ceremonies, and the smallest knight of Rohan had accepted the wizard's offer with weary gratitude. It hadn't taken him five minutes to divest himself of armor and go and fetch a blanket. But once he was ready to sleep he'd hesitated, looking over the other three hobbits with a small frown before settling down alongside Sam, so that he and Pippin bracketed the Ringbearers, their longer bodies blocking the night breeze from the two whose faces still bore traces of the long journey to Mt. Doom. Their voices mingled a while longer, like the small voices of birds flocking at night, before the murmurs faded into soft snores.

And Gandalf sat and smoked, and listened to the sound of celebrations still tapering off in the lower city, contemplating the four small beings he guarded into the night.

----

Author note: Although I've encountered the notion elsewhere since, the first place I really hit the "hobbitpile" was in Baylor's wonderful story "The Care and Feeding of Hobbits." (Go, read if you haven't, it's at ff.n, as well as elsewhere) It made instant sense to me, and I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed the idea for this vignette.

----


	19. Big Folk

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Nineteen

Timeline: Summer 1419/3019; Chapter: 6.V and 6.VI -- mostly…

Credit where Credit is due:

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Big Folk **

They don't understand, these Big Folk, what it's like to find yourself the size of a fauntling; to have to run to keep up, and hunt out chairs with rungs between the legs so you can climb them, and then still need a book beneath you to find the table. They don't understand why you have to look away or get a crick in your neck when talking to them.

They don't understand that you might be older than they are. That they look as much like children to you as you do to them.

But some of them try.

----


	20. Homesick

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty

Timeline: mid-October, 1419/3019 Chapter: 6.VII

Credit where Credit is due: previously appeared on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Homesick **

All he wanted to do was curl up again on the lumpy ticking of the bed he had once shared with his brothers, with the quilt his mother had made wrapped high over his shoulders and the starlight showing dim in the tiny window on the far wall. No featherbed had ever been sweeter, not in the palace of the King, nor even in the storied halls of Rivendell, than lying in the well-known darkness and listening to the familiar grumble of voices and the slap of cards as the old hobbits talked in the kitchen deep into the night

----


	21. At the Green Dragon

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty One

Timeline: Late October 3019; Chapter: Movie fic, RotK, when the hobbits return to the Shire

Credit where Credit is due: from a plotbunny challenge by shirebound, previously posted on her and my LJs, under the title "Simple Folk".****

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **At the Green Dragon**  
  
Just look at them, sitting here, bold as brass, like they never run off and made folks wonder.  
  
_Just look at them, sitting there, laughing and joking, like they never felt the touch of shadow._  
  
Not a word of explanation, not to anyone. It's a blessing Will Whitfoot kept Lobelia out of that hole after all.  
  
_We couldn't explain, not that anyone's asked. At least they didn't try to auction off Bag End._  
  
Perhaps when they've had a pint or two, they'll find their tongues again.  
  
_Perhaps when we've had a pint or two, this will feel like home again._

----


	22. Frodo at Bag End

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Two

Timeline: 3 November 1419/3019_;_ Chapter: 6.VIII

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted as AotPB chapter 9 on ff.n and in my LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Frodo at Bag End **

I should have come back sooner. If it hadn't been for Bilbo, waiting at Rivendell, I might have. But there are a lot of things I might have done if it hadn't been for Bilbo.

Yet if it hadn't been for Bilbo I should never have loved this place. I close my eyes and see bright sunlight on the floor; I smell the beeswax Bell Gamgee used to polish the wooden paneling once each sevenday.

I want to ignore the corruption, the black speech scored into the curved walls.

I cannot ignore the words carved into my heart.

_Ash nazg..._

----


	23. Worse Than Mordor

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Three

Timeline: 3 November 1419/3019 Chapter: 6.VIII

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted as AotPB chapter 10 on ff.n and in my LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Worse than Mordor**

Remember that tree, Mr. Frodo? It had the sweetest apples in the Shire. And that shed there, it's right in the place where the daffydowndillys always bloomed come spring. The well's been fouled – something's dead down there and please don't let it be Lotho. Though probably 'tis. Saruman had to know we were coming. He's left his filth smeared on the kitchen floor, and there's not a bite of food nor drop of drink in Bag End I'd trust not to be poisoned.

You go along back to Farmer Cotton's, and let me get started. I'll make it right.

Somehow.

----


	24. Memory of Ents

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Four

Timeline: late November 1419/3019 Chapter: 6.IX

Credit where Credit is due: **Written for Marigold's challenge #3**  
and previously posted in the "talechallenge03" LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Memory of Ents**

"We could use old Treebeard now, couldn't we Merry?" Pippin said, depositing another well-wrapped sapling into the pony cart and wiping his face with his sleeve in a failed attempt to clean off some of the dirt. "He'd just tell these trees where we wanted them and… hoom, baroom, away they'd go!" The December sun shone thin through a frail fretwork of high cloud, but he'd been working hard and was sweating despite the coolness of the day. He stopped to take a drink of water, stretching his back against the ache of hard work.  
  
"I'm not sure regular trees could go like that," Merry answered thoughtfully. "Just huorns."  
  
"This _is_ the Old Forest," Pippin pointed out cheerfully. He grinned mischievously at the third hobbit of their working party.  
  
"Just the very edge of it," Sam said firmly. "And we're not a-going to go in no deeper. Tom Bombadil saved you two from that willow tree once, and I don't expect as he'd want to make a habit of it." He surveyed the nearby woods with a grimace. "And how the two of you talked me into getting saplings from here I don't know. I should have stayed back in Hobbiton, helping Mr. Frodo with seeing to the new smials in the Hill."  
  
"You're the one who knows which kinds of trees are wanted," Merry pointed out. "And unless you plan to grow every one from seeds you'll have to choose from what's already begun to grow. The Forest is just the easiest place to get a lot of young trees," Merry took a deep breath and looked around at the quiet wood. "Saruman's thugs couldn't get past Buckland. And besides, after being in Fangorn Forest, it's not as frightening here as I used to think it was. It's just a matter of explaining." He tied the burlap sacking around the rootball of his chosen sapling and patted it fondly. "The trees know that we didn't come to burn or slash. And these little ones will all have a place to grow where they can stretch and reach the sun."  
  
"They'll get taken care of, and that's true enough, with a bit of the Lady's earth to set their roots down right." Sam said. " I expect that none of these little ones are likely to take it into their heads to walk around." He shivered. "At least I hope so. I wouldn't want to get that Treebeard mad enough to come along to the Shire."  
  
Merry looked at him curiously. "I thought you liked the Ents, Sam," he said.   
  
"I liked hearing about them, well enough" Sam said. "But Treebeard…" he scratched his head. "It was different actually meeting Ents, than it was in a story, if you see what I mean."  
  
"No, I don't," Pippin said, rummaging hopefully in the picnic basket. "What do you mean?" he asked, around a cheekful of cheese.  
  
"Well," Sam said, taking the next sapling in the row and beginning to wind a strip of burlap carefully around the clump of dirt and roots at its base. "You didn't happen to mention as how they kind of wade through the earth like it was water, with their toes going down underneath, for one thing."  
  
"No, I don't think we did," Merry admitted.  
  
"And I don't think I rightly appreciated how big the Ents are, either," Sam admitted. "I'm surprised you didn't run for your lives."  
  
"We might have, if Treebeard didn't already have hold of us when we met him," Pippin said. "But he was a lot less scary than orcs."  
  
"But you weren't frightened of him, were you Sam?" Merry asked. "Not after we'd told you about him."  
  
"Not frightened, exactly," Sam said. "Startled more like. The last tree I saw moving on its own was Old Man Willow, after all, and the last thing I'd seen that size was Shelob. If we hadn't been with Gandalf and the King and all, I'd have had my sword out – for all the good it would have done." He shook his head. "He made me feel even smaller than Minas Anor did."  
  
"It's funny, but once I got used to him I never felt small," said Merry, remembering. "At least not the way you make it sound."  
  
"I did," Pippin said. "But I didn't mind. I'm used to feeling small. It's being tall that feels funny. It's a shame you didn't have more chance to talk to Treebeard, though, Sam. You'd have liked his songs and stories."  
  
"Stories?" Sam repeated, his hands going still for the first time since the conversation had begun. "He told you stories?"  
  
"Well, one story, mostly. About the Entwives." Pippin boosted himself up onto the end of the cart and let his feet dangle as he rested his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. "Do you want to hear it?"  
  
Merry and Sam exchanged knowing looks. There were six saplings yet to bundle, but Pippin had obviously reached the end of his patience for the monotonous task. He'd go back to work if he was asked, they both knew, but it had been so long since they'd seen him acting the irresponsible tween, they silently agreed to indulge him this time.  
  
"All right, Master Peregrin," Sam said. "Tell your tale."  
  
"Well, there were Ents, and Entwives, and the Ents liked wild woods, and the Entwives liked gardens, you see, so they didn't always stay together," Pippin began, and as he went on, with Merry correcting him and sending the story back on itself and forward again, it seemed to Sam that the air grew still and quiet, and the trees at the edge of the clearing bent closer to listen. They sidetracked for a while on exactly when the Entwives must have disappeared, and argued over the details, but the thrust of the story was plain enough, and Sam took a deep breath when he thought of how long the Ents had been alone.   
  
"Do you remember the song, Merry?" Pippin asked, jumping down to make space for the last of the saplings at last.  
  
"Of course I do," Merry answered, and began to sing the long plea of the Ents:   
  
"_When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough,  
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow,  
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain air,  
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!"_  
  
Pippin answered as the Entwife, grinning at first until the sense of his words softened his elation. Sam could almost hear the words in Treebeard's deep voice when Merry sang the next verse, and as the song turned from summer to winter he felt tears sting at his eyes. The two hobbit voices twined around each other, joining at last.  
  
"_Together we will take the road that leads into the West,  
And far away we'll find a land where both our hearts can rest._"  
  
Sam was glad his head was bent over the rope he was tying across the back of the cart to keep the saplings from falling out. He wanted to cry, and he wasn't entirely sure if it were only for the Ents' sake. He tugged at his knot, fiercely, wishing that he and Frodo had come back to a Shire where they could rest instead of having to mend what Saruman had broken.  
  
But he couldn't dwell on it. Pippin was waiting for a reaction to the story. Sam made himself smile at the younger hobbit. "That's quite a tale. I expect you're right. I should have liked Treebeard's conversation, if we'd had any time for it."  
  
Pippin smiled back, "Maybe you can visit him, if you ever go south again," he offered.   
  
"Maybe," Sam said.  
  
Merry, feeling the silence lengthen, took charge. "Come on, let's get back to Crickhollow before the sun goes down. I'm ready for dinner." He roused the drowsing pony, and guided it back into the traces while Sam and Pippin gathered the tools and leftover burlap and string. It didn't take long. Soon they were on their way, back to the Shire, and out of the Forest.   
  
And not one of them saw the green eyes that watched them go. 

----


	25. Last of the Ruffians

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Five

Timeline: Late 1419 early 1420_;_ Chapter: 6.IX

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted on ff.n as AotPB chapter 11 posted on LJ as "Ruffian".

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Last of the Ruffians**

Soft I called them, before they went, but they've come back hard and cruel besides. No matter that we need a mill, it must come down to please them. No matter that the gears are mine, for the land went to pay the cost. No matter that they've turned Lobelia against me. All my hard work gone for naught. All my dreams smashed down. There's nothing left but anger and their laughter in my ears. Especially his.

But he rides alone, planting his foolish trees. And when he's gone they won't laugh no more. My dreams won't die. _His will_.

----


	26. Bag End at Night

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Six

Timeline: Circa early 1421/3021; Chapter 6.IX

Credit where Credit is due: Previously posted as Chapter 3 of AotPB at ff.n and in my LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Bag End at Night **

Darkness and a scream, and stumbling out of bed with one hand trying to wave away spiderwebs and the other seeking a sword before remembering.

Darkness and despair, and a loved voice thick with weariness saying "I'm here," and the cool glass pressed into his grasp.

Light, so bright it shows through clasped hands and escapes through the gaps between fingers to illuminate the midnight tableau and glint off tears already drying in the warmth of so much tenderness.

Light, and a crisis safely passed as his master sighs into better dreams, and her hand leading him back to bed.

----


	27. All That I Have, Or Might Have Had

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Seven

Timeline: 25 December 1421/F.A 1 Chapter: Appendices

Credit where Credit is due: previously posted to my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **All That I Have, or Might Have Had **

Will Whitfoot had come to him with Frodo's will when he'd returned from the Grey Havens, all signed and correct, but his tears had made nonsense of the words. It wasn't until Quarterday that he realized how much had changed. That was when the rents came due.

All morning they came, small farmers, with their silver and copper, waiting patiently as he wrote the amounts in the ledger, and touching their caps to him when he gave them the receipts. Rosie gave them tea and sweet rolls; they touched their caps to her, too.

A messenger from the Southfarthing, with twenty gold as his share of the pipeweed crop; Ted Sandyman, scowling, with a long tale about how the cost of building the new mill prevented him from paying his due.

All the property Lobelia had left to Frodo, and that Lotho had left to her, bought with Saruman's money. All the income from the properties that Frodo had got from Bilbo, and from his parents long ago. All of that and Bag End too.

And Sam remembered the glorious lies of the Ring, and the one small garden in a free land that he had chosen instead and wept.

----


	28. Mayor Wanted

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Eight

Timeline: Spring 1427/F.A. 7; Chapter: Appendices

Credit where Credit is due: (from a plot bunny by Shirebound) Previously posted on my LJ.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Mayor Wanted**

He'll take it on in the end. It's not just Mr. Frodo's telling him so, but that he knows it's a job that needs doing. Not that half the village hasn't been bringing their troubles up the Hill already. Old Will was never much of a Mayor for anything but the banquets, nor ever needed to be, but times have changed, and my Sam changed with them. He's got the heart to care about what folks need, and the hobbitsense to tell when what they want isn't what's best for them. He doesn't see it, not yet, but he will.

----


	29. Mathom

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Twenty Nine

Timeline: 1428/F.A. 8 Chapter: Appendices

Credit where Credit is due: previously appeared on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Mathom**

Not much had been saved. Sam sifted through the box of cookware and threadbare linens, smiling as he recognized his sisters' stitchery on the edges of the tea towels.  
  
Near the bottom of the box he found the things that the Gaffer had packed first.  
  
A drawing of his mother. The herbal that Bilbo had given long ago. The carefully rolled family tree.  
  
And at the very bottom, one thing more.  
  
It wasn't much – just a willow-whistle he had made for his tenth birthday, when he thought he was too old to give bunches of flowers like the babies did. It hadn't worked well – it hadn't worked at all really – but he'd given it to his father, because there wasn't time to make another.  
  
Sam turned the wood in his hands and remembered the way that the knife had slipped and the bunny-ears of the bandage his mother had tied on his finger. Hal and Ham had laughed at him, and his father had been gruff in his thanks, spending more words on the damaged hand than the gift. He'd never even tried to get a tune out of it.  
  
The next year Sam had gone back to giving flowers.

----


	30. Tower Hills and author notes

Attack of the Plot Bunnies Chapter Thirty (and Author Notes)

For them that hasn't noticed, I rearranged the old ficlets and drabbled and mixed in a bunch of new ones. They are all now in chronological order -- of sorts anyway!

Timeline: September 1482/F.A 62 Chapter: Appendices

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Tower Hills**

That evening Sam stood in their garden listening to something only he could hear, and it seemed to Elanor that light shone out of him like hearthfirelight glinting through the cracks of a poorly repaired chimneystack. His sleep was brief, and broken by the nightmares he'd never had in her mother's arms. She sat by his side through the wee hours and held his hand in the shadowed room, hearing parts of the old story that she had never known. His hand felt as fragile to her touch as he did to her heart.

She knew he would not stay.

----

1

1

1

Author notes:

Well, I've pulled the old author notes here and added new, thank you everyone who's commented. I appreciate the feedback!

balrogthane -- Glad you liked Elfhelm. Sam's in a lot of these, but I branch out now and then.

Coriandra -- Thank you! I hope you like the new stuff too! (And I have a sneaking fondness of "Soldier of Gondor" since it was one of my earliest drabbles.)

Danny Barefoot – I haven't actually read "A Pretty Good Year." I may, once I've got my own story about Rosie worked out so that it doesn't get warped by preconceptions, though. I didn't imagine that particular drabble as a threesome – more as stumbling down the hall and looking for the nightlight… Glad you enjoyed Elrond! (new) Yes, "Ash Nazg" is "one Ring". And "Reunion" here has the prequel of "Farewell" which is not a drabble, but does expand on the relationship.

Eiluj – you're quite correct, Elfhelm does survive. But I think that at the moment he was giving Eowyn permission to join his eored, he was as convinced as anyone else in that army that he was riding to his doom, and so would she be. That another chance would arise just doesn't cross his mind.

Eykar -- Sorry that the revision will disconnect some of your reviews, but I know which one went to which. You've seen most of these at my lj though and commented. "Betimes" was used in the sense of "once in a while". Frodo's rotten times do grab me, but I think that they are rotten moments, as opposed to being absolutely flattened all of the time. He pulls himself together when he needs to.

Illyria – thanks for reviewing – although I think you did at my lj, which may be why the other one isn't here…

Sigil Galen -- grin I'm glad you liked that connection! I don't know if it's accurate, but it's fun!

Unhobbity Hobbit -- I love your take on "Faramir and Pippin"! LoL! Glad you enjoyed the first dozen of these, and hope you'll enjoy the rest!


	31. Departure

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty One

Timeline: September 23, 3018

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan Title:

**Departure**

It wasn't until the bags were sitting on the porch that he realized that he would never see Bag End again -- not the way that it should be – not with the Sackville-Bagginses moving all their truck in tomorrow. He padded softly through rooms, remembering. Chalk and pipeweed and Mr. Bilbo saying the names of the letters. Soap and flour and his mother rattling pans on the stove of a morning. Leather and iron and dwarves leaving marks in the floor with their hobnailed boots. Books and fireworks and Gandalf's voice rumbling like approaching thunder. Ink and parchment and Mr. Frodo wandering out to listen to tavern-gossip for a while before going back to his books.  
  
He paused in the doorway of the empty study and put a hand on his stomach, wondering if it were possible to be homesick before you'd even gone off. For half a moment all he wanted was to run for Bagshot Row and put his head under the covers.   
  
But there was no turning back. "A drop of beer, that's what you need, Sam Gamgee," he told himself, and went to the cellar to find it.   
  
Malt courage was better than none at all. 

--/--


	32. Feasting at Rivendell

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty-two

Timeline: October 24, 3018

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Feasting at Rivendell**  
  
Merry wondered if he should offer to change places. From his vantage point he could see that Frodo's appetite had recovered nicely, but Sam, forbidden to serve at the high table, was fussing. Then again, every time Sam twisted around to look at Frodo sitting up with Elrond and Gandalf, Pippin had a chance to slip another bit of potato, or slice of meat onto the gardener's plate. Pippin blushed defiantly when he realized Merry had noticed, but Merry smiled and discreetly topped off Sam's glass of wine. "Best eat up, Sam," he said, "You wouldn't want Frodo to worry."

--/--


	33. Counsellor of Elrond

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty-three

Timeline: October 25th, 3018

Credit where Credit is due: previously in LJ community Lotr100

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: Counsellor of Elrond

His chief counsellor Elrond calls me, and it is an honor, but it means that I must be at every meeting in this room, and just taking my chair is enough to make my mind wander. Especially since I've heard the story of how Isildur took the Ring at least a thousand times. I heard Gandalf's report about Saruman and the Ring too, and he said it in fewer words when his dinner and a bath were waiting for him.

The fate of the world hangs on our words, and all I can do is concentrate:

_I will **not** yawn._


	34. Bottom of the Bin

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty-four

Timeline: November, 3018

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Bottom of the Bin**

"Dear Marigold," it said, in her brother's careful hand,

"I haven't leave to tell you why, and I won't, in case you find this before the flour's gone, but like as not you already know I've gone a mite farther than Crickhollow. Mr. Frodo's got to go, you see, and I'm to go with him and how far and how long is more than I know. But I'm like to see Elves, if Gandalf don't turn me into a toad for writing you. Tell them that might miss me that I'm sorry I didn't say more. Especially Dad."

"Love, Samwise."


	35. Mending

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty-Five

Timeline: January, 3019

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Mending**  
  
He took up the long leather coat and set it on his knees, threading the leather needle from his pack with heavy woolen thread. The coat had seen long service, judging by the other repairs, and Sam wondered how many battles it had known. Or had the other rips been made in practice too? No matter. It would be easy enough to mend.  
  
Boromir was counting cadence as Frodo sparred with Aragorn again and Sam found himself humming to the rhythm, vaguely pleased that the Men had found out now what Sting could do, with a hobbit's arm behind it.


	36. Gift

Attack of the Plot Bunnies  
  
Chapter Thirty-six

Timeline: February 16, 3019

Credit where Credit is due: previously on my LJ

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien (except for the bits that belong to Peter Jackson and the rest of the people who made the movies.) I'm just playing with the toys.

Author: rabidsamfan

Title: **Gift**

Three fragile strands of golden hair, braided together as gently as a goldsmith twists the wires of a brooch, wrapped around a button of wood, tucked into a pouch that once held lesser jewels, and hung from a thong that lies beneath his armor, so that the pouch falls near his heart.

I do not tell him that his ring of hair is the same size and shape as the Ring which Frodo carries next his skin. It is enough that I can see his eyes and remember why it was that once my people and his shared our lives.


End file.
